


red lips and rosy cheeks

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Almost Drowning, Angst and Feels, Banter, Cliche, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Third Person, Romance, Short One Shot, Transfer Talk, Underwater kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nothing lasts forever, or so the saying goes.</p><p>-</p><p>"What's this?" Hums the Brazilian as he settles upon the large towel alongside him, droplets from his hair staining the pristine sheet, words blurring as he reads the tiny, speckled letters. "You can't be serious, Ter." He murmurs after he shoves the papers back towards his chest, the blond scrambling to prevent anymore water damage as he tucks them back within the folder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	red lips and rosy cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> so here we are, again.
> 
> with another terfinha one-shot.
> 
> i have issues.

There were a few days in between games, and the two had graciously planned a trip to a secluded beach on the outskirts of boisterous Barcelona. The sun, as per usual at midday, was shining its brilliant rays powerfully down upon the pair that settled within the golden sad, the tiny granules burning their heels.

Droplets of sweat are already beading at the brunet's foreheads and trailing down the planes of his countenance as he neatly lays out a towel on the sweltering sand, along with a few of his other belongings, before casting a small smirk over his shoulder at the blond who is wavering fiercely from foot to foot as he attempts to chase the brunet into the water.

It's as cool as the two expected, probably even more so, and Rafinha finds his teeth chattering slightly as he wades further into the water until its splashing against his collar bones. Then he smiles slightly and shifts onto his back, lean form floating over the top of the water that licks at his ankles and pools around his neck.

Marc can only smile at the sight as he settles near the beach front, legs splayed out before him, leaning back on his hands to glare up at the sun through his thick, black shades. Something about watching the latter float around and splash like that made him seem like such a small child, and something about it was more than amusing.

All he can see from his position is stark white teeth and russet skin that will be tanned gloriously once the two decided to vacate the beach; the nearest people seemingly yards away, the faint sounds of laughing and music playing in the distance. So the blond settles, fingers burying deep within the loose sound beneath him, disturbing the water so it splashes and moves fluidly around his waist.

Quiet was something the German had been after for a while now, with no shrieking fans, and no overly loud music blaring through tiny speakers. This setting was perfect for him and he could already feel the tense muscles slowly unwinding until he's relaxed, only smiling slightly as he gazes upon Rafinha, who seems more than content within the water.

Eventually he finds himself bored of the shore and wades through the water that is more than eager to accept his form in its fluid grasp. It's more than obvious that he's seeking out the unsuspecting Brazilian, pale hands—reddening beneath the rays of the sun—poised in front of him until he makes a swift grab. A startled yelp echoes from the brunet as he plunges beneath the water with an amused Marc tugging him further beneath the depths of the serenely clear water.

Chocolate eyes blink open as he scowls at the blond before he eventually offers a smile as he shoves him beneath the water, blinking more to adjust to the clearness. Marc only reaches for him once more, russet hands darting out to meet him halfway, only to Rafinha settles with his legs wrapped securely around the latter's waist, trapping beneath the water along with him.

Marc's eyes as as clear as the water but somehow the two still contrast, the intensity in his gaze more solid than the free-flowing sea. Rafinha presses his lips into the latter's and feels them sinking further into the crystalline depths but he doesn't seem to mind as he tugs the blond closer, hands remaining locked within blond locks.

Eventually Marc makes a noise and the two part, the blond choking slightly, as he reaches for one of Rafinha's arms to ultimately drag them back to the surface. Both males splutter and swipe at their faces, though Rafinha looks more amused than fearful that the two could have possibly drowned. He reaches out to slick back Marc's hair, droplets clinging to the ends of his locks, and Rafinha finds himself snorting.

"You could have killed us or something," splutters Marc who is still coughing, receiving a grateful pat on the back from Rafinha who shrugs a halfhearted shoulder as he toes around until his feet are flat upon the sand.

"Could have, but it didn't happen, did it?" Rafinha crowds the blond once more and presses their lips together once more, tanned hands wrapping around his waist, squeezing at the firm muscles of the latter's ass.

Another sound echoes from Marc—akin to a groan, or perhaps a low grunt—at the action and he presses into the contours of the shorter's body. He has to crane his neck downwards to more effectively attach their lips but he doesn't mind—why would he when he had Rafinha's plump lips to latch onto? His hands echo the action of the latter's and go to his waist, thumbs brushing against the exposed skin of his sides.

Marc is the first to withdraw from the kiss in favor of grinning, lips reddened and glistening with saliva and the water. "You're okay with drowning as long as you kiss me?"

Rafinha purses his lips tightly together then strolls backwards to splash at the blond, sticking his tongue out at him. "Kissing you is like drowning, it's sort of the same." Murmurs the Brazilian as he covers his face at the return fire, flailing backwards, but being caught in time before he tumbles back into the water.

"—And you say I'm the dork?" 

Rafael snorts and rights himself before he turns on his heel to swim away, casting a glance over his shoulder at the German. He notes the aggravated groan that emanates from the male as he kicks his legs to propel himself forward, water spewing into his face. And Marc knows it's because he's bashful about what he had just said, and he understands completely; he knew it was peculiar and difficult for the brunet to express such sappy, romantic feelings such as that, so he had no qualms as he escapes to gather himself and his thoughts alike.

So there the blond is grinning after him like a lovesick fool as he watches his retreating form, and he decidedly wades back toward the shore to plop onto his warm, dry towel a few feet away. It occurs to him that his shades were somewhere within the water but he doesn't find himself upset about it, he just lounges out, reaching within one of the small, water resistant bags to retrieve some paperwork he had brought along with him.

He spares one final glance at Rafinha, who is currently underwater for whatever purpose, and releases a soft sigh. What better way to read over a potential contract than at the serenity of the beach? He dries his hands with the bottom of the towel before he relaxes once more, fingers prying at the papers from the envelope, eyes glancing over the contents.

It was a letter that had been sent nearly a week ago from Liverpool that he hadn't had the chance to read over yet; far too busy with the team and training in between when they weren't playing. Ivory teeth chew at the inside of his cheek as he inhales deeply, going over the possible contract of what he could expect if he was transferred, noting the significant raise he would receive.

Once more he glances out towards the water, finding no obvious disturbances and no Rafinha, and he groans outwardly at his lack of perception. Instead he hears soft footfalls behind him and before he can successfully tuck the papers away, russet fingers are reaching forward to snag them up.

"What's this?" Hums the Brazilian as he settles upon the large towel alongside him, droplets from his hair staining the pristine sheet, words blurring as he reads the tiny, speckled letters. "You can't be serious, Ter." He murmurs after he shoves the papers back towards his chest, the blond scrambling to prevent anymore water damage as he tucks them back within the folder.

"I—I just wanted to read it over, that's all.." 

Hurt is evident within chocolate irises as he stares at the blond and shakes his head, lips slightly parted. "You wouldn't.." Rafinha narrows his eyes in an accusatory manner as he reaches to place a hand upon the latter's upper arm, offering it a warm squeeze. "Would you?"

Marc pauses to contemplate it, another squeeze tugging him from his reverie. "I don't know.. Honestly, I don't know, Rafa."

"You haven't decided anything yet.. Right?"

It's difficult not to wince as he gazes into those warm irises, feeling an uncomfortable flush form upon his skin. "Not yet, no." He shakes his head and raises a hand to place it over Rafinha's, offering it a squeeze. "I was going to talk to you about it, I just wanted to know myself what it said, before I thought about telling anyone about it."

Rafinha nods hesitantly and he wraps an arm around Marc's neck, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. And Marc accepts the embrace as he buries his face into the warmth of his neck, pressing an apologetic kiss to the column of his neck. His hand blindly reaches for Rafinha's hand and he twines their fingers together, bringing it to his hand to kiss the smooth skin.

"What could they have that we don't have..?" Rafinha inquires after a moment, resting his chin upon damp locks; he was honestly curious and felt as if he deserved to know.

Marc utters a soft chuckle as he allows his lids to flutter to a content close: "A better question is: what does Barcelona have that no one else has in the world?" 

Rafinha feels himself flush once more and his cheeks take on a scarlet blush. "Clean beaches? Sexier men? Lots of trophies?" 

Marc only snickers once more as he brushes the pad of his thumb along smooth skin once more, "Well, yeah. I can't argue with that logic. Though I don't care about any other men, all I care about is you. And no one else has a Rafael Alcântara, y'know." 

"Ohoho. So if I had a twin, you would think about leaving me then, huh?" Teases the brunet as he nuzzles his nose within blond locks that smell faintly of salt, musk, and the coconut shampoo he tended to use.

"What? What are you even talk—Doesn't matter." The German dismisses the topic entirely, and he tilts his head up to place a tender kiss to the latter's pulse point, allowing his lips to rest there for a moment. He feels his pulse, just beneath his jaw, speed up slightly under his lips and he smiles slightly. "All I want is you, and no one could replace you. Especially no one at Liverpool. I prefer Brasileiros over the British."

Rafinha can only burst out in snickers at that, his shoulder quaking. "You're damn right. Brasileiros do it better anyway. You have good taste in men, Marquinho." 

"I like to think so," murmurs the blond as he shifts his head once more to face the flowing water that grasps for the shore, only to retreat back into the ocean.

"So here we are in the most cliche poses on the beach, staring out at the water. All that's missing is a sunset and music from my iPod," breathes the brunet as he presses another tender kiss to the crown of Marc's head, holding him tighter.

"This is all your fault, Rafael. You're destroying my masculinity." 

Rafinha releases him and scoots away with his arms crossed childishly over his chest, pouting toward the blond. "Fine, fine. Não mais tocar." But the pout doesn't last long as he's bursting out in a laughter fit, with a German who rolls his eyes at his antics.

Instead the German sifts through his bag until he retrieves some sunscreen, shaking the bottle, and pouring a dollop into his palm. Hands rub together thoroughly, making sure to coat every inch of his palms, before his crawling on his knees toward the Brazilian. Soft sounds emit from his lips when his hands finally touch his skin and he hunches over, eyes fluttering to a serene close.

"Now I won't look like a burnt hashbrown," hums the brunet as he rolls his shoulder blades.

Marc only shakes his head at that as he smooths his palms over the expanse of the latter's back, rubbing profusely at the knotted muscles. Soon his back is covered in a pale white color, but that is quickly remedied as he rubs in the 'Hawaiian-Breeze' scented sun lotion. He's careful not to use his hands when he swipes his arm across his face, beads of sweat trickling down his countenance, before he continues his administrations.

"Have you been certified as a massage therapist, Marquinho? Hmm? Withholding secrets from me?"

Another soft laugh spews from the blond's lips as he leans forward and wraps his arms around the Brazilian from the back, the white substance undoubtedly smoothing across his chest, not that he cares. Thin lips are peppering kisses along the length of his neck and his hands are moving to work at the front of the Brazilian's chest, smearing the remainder of the lotion across his abdomen, fingers dancing along the hem of his swim briefs.

Rafinha stutters with his breathing at the feather-light touches and relaxes and allows his head to fall back against the latter's shoulder. "I hate you and your hands.."

"Don't lie, Rafa." Coos the German with an amused grin, "you love both me and my hands. Let's set that straight."

"...Probably the only straight thing about you..." 

And just like that hands are retracted from his body, russet hands quick to shoot up in an attempt to prevent it, but to no avail. A low whine emanates from the Brazilian's throat as he shifts on the towel to face Marc, who only shrugs a halfhearted shoulder, tossing the bottle toward the man. He offers a playful wink as he shifts this time until his back is on full display, glancing over his shoulder at Rafinha, who scowls.

"I was enjoying that," grumbles the Brazilian as he raises onto his knees and opens the bottle nonetheless. "I think more beach massages are in order after this," he states firmly as he rubs the substance thoroughly across the expanse of his reddened back. 

"Well, yeah. I have nothing against that, I just don't want to be the red lobster to your burnt hashbrown."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Comedic genius."

When he finally finishes up the German's back, with minimal moans from the man, Rafinha backs away in favor of sitting beside him. He glances at the blond through his peripheral vision, lips quirking into a tiny smirk. It was far too difficult to attempt not to smile at the blond, he had gathered that within the first week of meeting him.

One of his hands skirts across the towel and reaches for Marc's paler one, not glancing away from the beautiful water for a moment, though the blond gazes at their hands with fondness.

"If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just said so."

Another groan spews from Rafinha as he twines their fingers together between them, chocolate eyes still not averting from the ocean. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

Silence passes between the two as they take in their surroundings; so unbelievably quiet, no one in sight, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Everything seemed somehow perfect in that moment, and neither could complain. There was something therapeutic about the thick air of salt around them, the humidity keeping their skin sticky and gleaming with sweat.

"You won't leave me, yeah?"

Marc doesn't even let a second pass before he responds, "Never."

-

 

 

**| Headlines: Marc-André ter Stegen set for summer transfer to Liverpool FC. |**  


**Author's Note:**

> don't kill me, por favor?
> 
> (( and I was totally influenced by 'Wildest Dreams,' and I listened to it while writing this. ))
> 
> ((( and I deffo need to proofread this again, I literally just wrote it and wanted it up as quick as possible. )))


End file.
